by Weaver, Pam
‘Have you tried looking in your handbag or the dressing table?’ Ruby suggested kindly. She didn’t think anyone would find a brooch in a washbag.
They returned to the bedroom and Ruby helped her, but to no avail. Ruby was on her hands and knees looking under the bed when the door burst open.
‘Come along, Mother,’ said an irritable female voice. ‘For goodness’ sake, hurry up. The car will be here soon.’
‘Yes, dear,’ said Mrs Harper. ‘I’ve just got to put on my shoes, that’s all.’
‘I’ll wait for you downstairs then.’
The door closed and Ruby got up from the floor. ‘I’m sorry, madam. It’s not under the bed.’
‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ said the woman, clearly distressed. ‘My daughter gets so cross when I lose things.’
‘If I do find it,’ said Ruby, ‘what shall I do with it?’
‘Pop it in the drawer beside the bed,’ Mrs Harper said. ‘It goes in the little red box.’
Muttering distractedly, the guest put on her shoes and hurried from the room. Mrs Harper had left a fox-fur stole and an umbrella on the bed, so Ruby tidied them away. As usual she had to strip the beds and put on new clean linen. She pulled the sheets off and remade the bed. When she took off the pillowcase, something fell onto the sheet. It was a pearl-and-amethyst brooch. Smiling to herself, Ruby opened the bedside drawer. There were two red boxes inside. She picked up one, but it had another brooch inside. The second box was empty, and she was just putting the pearl-and-amethyst brooch inside when a cold voice behind her said, ‘What are you doing, Bateman?’
Ruby whirled round to find Mrs Fosdyke staring at her.
‘I … It’s not how it looks,’ she stuttered. ‘I found it on the bed, and I was putting it back.’
Mrs Fosdyke raised an eyebrow. A small smile played around her lips. ‘You don’t know how many times I’ve heard that one,’ she said coldly.
‘But it’s true,’ Ruby cried. ‘I wasn’t taking it. The guest asked me to help her look for it, and I found it caught inside the pillowcase.’
The door was still open, and Ruby saw the florist packing up the rest of her things. ‘Winnie, you’ll vouch for me, won’t you?’ she said. ‘You heard the guest say that her brooch was lost.’
Winnie stood with a bewildered expression on her face. ‘What brooch?’
Ruby looked helplessly from the florist to Mrs Fosdyke. ‘I had the door open,’ said Ruby, ‘and the guest was upset because she’d lost her brooch.’
Winnie began to look uncomfortable. ‘I’m sorry, dear,’ she said apologetically, ‘but I’m afraid I didn’t hear anything.’
Ruby’s heart sank.
‘Leave everything as it is and come straight to the office,’ said Mrs Fosdyke.
‘But I haven’t done anything wrong,’ Ruby cried helplessly.
‘Now, Bateman,’ she snapped.
They emerged into the corridor just as Mrs Harper was coming back. ‘I left my stole and the umbrella,’ she said, looking flustered.
‘I found your brooch, madam,’ said Ruby.
‘Bateman!’ Mrs Fosdyke snapped again.
But Ruby wasn’t going to go down without a fight. ‘I’ve put it in the drawer, in the red box.’
‘Um?’ said Mrs Harper. ‘Oh, thank—’
She was interrupted by her daughter coming up the stairs. ‘What are you doing now, Mother? Do hurry up.’
‘Yes, yes, of course.’
‘Shall I show you where I put it?’ Ruby insisted.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Mrs Toynby, Mrs Harper’s daughter.
‘I caught this girl going through your mother’s things,’ said Mrs Fosdyke. ‘I am just about to call the police.’
‘I didn’t steal anything, madam,’ cried Ruby. ‘Your mother was distressed because she couldn’t find her brooch. I helped her to look for it, but we couldn’t find it. As soon as she’d left the room, I found it caught inside the pillowcase.’
By now a couple of other guests had gathered in the corridor.
‘Bateman – the office,’ said Mrs Fosdyke, anxious to get Ruby somewhere far less public.
‘Have you been mislaying things again, Mother?’ said Mrs Toynby. ‘Cedric is right. You are going doolally.’
‘No!’ cried Mrs Harper. ‘I have no idea what the girl is talking about. I forgot to bring my stole, that’s all. Really, Louisa, you’re making a terrible fuss about nothing.’
She went back into her room and the door closed.
Ruby felt sick. This couldn’t be happening. If the woman denied everything, she would be labelled a thief. She’d be sacked. She mustn’t lose this job. Without a decent reference, she’d never get another job. Oh God, if they called the police, she might even end up in prison.
‘No, wait,’ cried Ruby. ‘Please … you must believe me. I didn’t take anything.’
‘Bateman,’ said Mrs Fosdyke, ‘the office.’
The older woman came out of the room and made for the stairs. ‘Please, madam,’ cried Ruby. ‘You must tell them. If you don’t, I shall get the sack.’
Mrs Harper glanced at her daughter. ‘Whatever this is about,’ she said defiantly, ‘it’s got nothing to do with me.’
Her daughter glared at Ruby and they both went downstairs. Miserably, Ruby followed Mrs Fosdyke to the office.
Percy had a lot to do. First he went down to the beach to inspect his father’s locker and boat. Few of the other fishermen were around. It was December 23rd, after all. Those who were there were quick to acknowledge him, and a couple expressed their sadness at Nelson’s passing. The boat was fine, but a lot of the fishing gear was missing.
‘They say it were all gone when they pulled he out of the water,’ said a burly fisherman known as Bluey. He and a friend were still trying to sell the fish they’d caught on Saturday, though – being Christmas – most housewives were thinking more in terms of chicken or pork for their meals. ‘Must have took it wi’ he when he fell.’
Percy frowned. ‘Did he have someone with him?’ Bluey glanced at his companion and shifted awkwardly, making Percy sense something was wrong. ‘What is it?’
‘Silas Reed told the coroner it were you in the boat wi’ him.’
‘Me!’ cried Percy indignantly. ‘Of course it wasn’t me. I was on my way to London.’
Bluey’s companion sniffed loudly. ‘You know what Silas and his eyesight is like. The man couldn’t see the Mauretania if it sailed up the Rife.’
‘All the same,’ Bluey insisted, ‘the police were supposed to be wanting to talk with you.’
‘Well, nobody came looking,’ said Percy tetchily. He opened the locker and found what was left of Nelson’s fishing tackle inside.
‘You going out on the water?’ asked Bluey.
‘My father always wanted me to fish,’ replied Percy.
Bluey’s companion sniffed again and Percy felt himself bristle. If they said one word about his lack of fishing skills – one word … Having checked the bottom of the boat, he locked up again and left the beach. It will be better without him, he told himself as he strode towards the town, but he knew it was said without much conviction.
Ruby sat in a shelter looking out to sea. She was cold and she had never felt so miserable in her whole life. How had this happened? She had been so happy when she’d come to work this morning. Percy was back, which meant she and her mother had got the Christmas present they’d wanted most. Only last night, this year promised to be the very best Christmas ever. It was probably wicked to say it, but her father wasn’t there to spoil anything.
Now that Percy was back, Ruby wished she had a way of contacting Miss Russell, who had sent her a Christmas card from Cape Town, South Africa, no less. It had pride of place on the mantelpiece, and Ruby had snatched a couple of minutes to look Cape Town up when she was working in the lounge area at Warnes. She had little time to read much, but she enjoyed looking at the black-and-white photographs of what was described as the University
of Cape Town, with its impressive Athenian temple entrance, and the Worcester shopping centre, which looked much like any English town, apart from the snow-capped mountains in the distance. Miss Russell was going to spend the holidays in a place called Pretoria, where she would be staying with friends in the famous Erasmus Castle; as a postscript she had added the word ‘spookhuis’. Ruby was convinced it was German until John pointed out that it was an Afrikaans word meaning ‘a house with a ghost’. Ruby smiled to herself and shivered with delight at the thought of it. She sighed. Even if she could contact Miss Russell, she would have no chance of working for her, now that she’d got the sack. She’d need a good reference.
She had known that Mrs Fosdyke had been gunning for her ever since she’d been rewarded for helping Dr Palmer. She blew her nose and shivered. What would Jim say? He was on the way up now. He had just won a prize in a national photographic competition. It suddenly occurred to her that, in the excitement of seeing Percy, she’d never got round to asking him what he’d actually won as a prize. Perhaps the picture would be in some sort of exhibition, or even in the paper. Good for him! All at once her blood ran cold. Supposing they found out that the ‘Beauty’ in the photograph had just been labelled a thief and had been sacked from her job? That could mean she would ruin Jim’s chances of success as well. The thought of it brought fresh tears and further self-condemnation.
The men in his dormitory had had a whip-round and had given him a generous amount of money when they’d heard the news of his father’s death, so Percy joined several dozen other men on the shop floor of Woolworths. At this time on Christmas Eve, they had the place to themselves. The younger men were at the perfume and cosmetic counters, buying talcum powder and lipsticks for their girlfriends, while the older, more obviously married men went for the household items like a new feather duster or drinking glasses. A few men hung around the boxes of chocolates, while the more daring of them looked at the lacy scanties.
Percy bought a box of toffees for May, a Yardley’s talc-and-soap set in a presentation box for Ruby and a big box of the new Black Magic chocolates for his mother. The assistant on the chocolate counter was particularly helpful, because she wrapped up the box of chocolates for him. He stopped in a tea shop for a cup of tea and then, having called in at the off-licence to buy a couple of bottles of beer, made his way back home.
Ruby still sat in the shelter. She looked across the water to the pier, still black and broken from the fire. The workmen had put up fencing to stop the public from walking on two-thirds of it, while they slowly removed everything but the steel frame from the Southern Pavilion. It stood out in stark relief against the sky, like the ribcage of a much-loved but dead animal. A morbid thought crossed her mind. They were alike, she and the pier, stripped bare and exposed to the critical eye of the town. That thought made her cry some more.
Later, all cried out, she made some decisions. She wouldn’t tell the family what had happened. They didn’t need to know yet, and she didn’t want to ruin their Christmas. She would make something up – tell them she’d got a bit of holiday. She’d go back to Warnes after Christmas and apologize to Mrs Fosdyke. She had nothing to be sorry for, but with two and half million other people out of work in the country, she couldn’t afford to nurse her pride. Mrs Fosdyke would most likely refuse to have her back, but she might go easier on the reference. It was obvious that the hotel guest was confused. Hadn’t the waiters in the dining room said so, on more than one occasion? She’d point this out – politely – and hope that Mrs Fosdyke would be reasonable. If she couldn’t get her job back, Ruby would trudge the streets night and day until she found something – anything would do. Her heart sank and she realized she was back at square one. No one would give her a job, not even a dreadful job, without a reference.
One good thing: now that Percy was back home, he would return to the fishing. Ruby sighed. If only she were a man, she could go fishing too. A small smile worked its way onto her lips. Perhaps Percy would take her on as a ‘mate’. Why not? She knew some fishermen believed that women were not physically or emotionally capable of sailing, but she would have no trouble disproving that stupid idea! However, there was a stronger disincentive to joining her brother. It was traditionally believed that having a woman on board brought bad luck. Ridiculous, of course; and the myth had probably only gained legs because a woman on board a larger ship could be a distraction, or even the cause of jealousy between members of the crew. That wouldn’t happen on the Saucy Sarah, because she would be with her own brother. Besides, this was the twentieth century. Percy was a man of the world and, as such, surely he would have no truck with such superstitious nonsense. No, the more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. She wouldn’t need a reference to be a fisher-woman.
Ruby wiped her nose one last time and stood up. Problem solved. She would enjoy her Christmas and then tell everybody her plan. If this was as bad as it got, she’d be all right. Surely nothing could get worse than it was already.
CHAPTER 20
The suitcase was leaning against the kitchen dresser. When Ruby opened it, her father’s coat had gone and so had the dresses. In its place she found a lovely silk nightdress and some jumpers. One was hand-knitted in a pretty blue wool with a silver thread, but there was an ugly mistake in the pattern running down the front. Ruby decided to swap it with the boring black shoes she had worn at Warnes. She wouldn’t be needing them now and, if she unpicked the blue jumper, she could make something else.
The Christmas celebrations began on Christmas Eve. Just before May went to bed they heard carol singers in the road. Bea opened the front door and they listened. ‘Peace on earth and mercy mild …’
‘Oh, I hope so,’ Bea whispered.
To the family’s delight, the singers sang ‘Away in a Manger’ and ‘As with Gladness, Men of Old’, before moving on. May went up to bed. Percy went to the pub. Ruby put the finishing touches to the room. Having come home a bit earlier, with the excuse that she’d been given the time off as a Christmas gesture, she and May had spent the afternoon making the room look quite festive. They’d already hung crêpe-paper chains and now they added a bit of holly to the mantelpiece, taken from the tree three doors down, and some ivy picked from the archway beside the railway line leading into Ivy Arch Road. They’d put Epsom salts onto some fir cones they’d found on the road nearby. Ruby knew that if they spread them thickly enough, when they dried it would look like snow.
She put a plate of cobnuts, collected in September and left to ripen, next to her mother’s armchair, and the home-made sweets she’d made the previous week in the centre of the table. Standing back to admire her handiwork, Ruby smiled. It was perfect.
The day itself began with May thundering downstairs to see if Father Christmas had been. Ruby turned one sleepy eye towards the clock. Five-thirty. She groaned and turned over, pulling the bed-sheets back over her head. The room was freezing. She dozed, but she wasn’t allowed to stay there for long. She was called downstairs by her mother at six-fifteen, with the promise of a cup of tea if she came down to watch her sister open her presents.
They sat huddled in the kitchen, Percy included, yawning and trying to look enthusiastic while May unwrapped everything. Whenever possible, Bea carefully folded the paper that could be used again, although some pieces had obviously done several Christmases already and were rather the worse for wear. She put what she could into a drawer, ready to iron some day, and then it would go upstairs to be stored until next year.
Ruby and Bea loved their presents from Percy, given to them both still in the Woolworths bag. The jumper that Ruby had knitted her mother was fine, although it was slightly bigger than she’d thought. Her mother had given her the brooch Grandma used to wear. She had always planned to give it to Ruby on her twenty-first birthday, but in these difficult times it was all she had. It was a pretty flower-shape with pink-and-white stones. Although it had no great value, it meant a lot to Ruby, because it brought back memories of the whit
e-haired old lady who had cuddled her and told her she loved her, on the magic days when she came to Worthing when Ruby was a child. She also had a surprise present from the suitcase. The shoes she had worn at Warnes were given to her, neatly wrapped in an apron.
‘I thought they’d do as a spare pair, love,’ Bea whispered, as Ruby gaped in surprise. ‘I swapped them for a headscarf.’
‘Thanks, Mum,’ said Ruby, hiding a small smile. Clearly her mother hadn’t recognized them – why would she? She never cleaned them or anything.
Percy was handed a small but bulky present from his mother. He was staggered to see his father’s pocket watch emerging from the paper. ‘He would have wanted you to have it,’ said Bea with a smile.
‘Thanks, Mother,’ said Percy, putting it into his trouser pocket.
Of course May had the lion’s share of presents. Her stocking contained a magic painting book, which only required the use of a wet brush to bring out the colours impregnated on the page; a pair of tin scales, with two little jars of sweeties to measure out; some plasticine; a skipping rope with real wooden handles; a little shell necklace; and an apple and a tangerine. Under the tree she found the tin of toffees from Percy, a puzzle from Aunt Vinny and Cousin Lily, a whole set of knitted doll’s clothes from Ruby and a toy sewing box from Bea.
Percy stoked the fire and put on some more coal. Normally Bea would have been alarmed to see so much of their meagre supply going on at once, but, she reminded herself, it was Christmas. After a while Percy yawned and went back to bed. May got her dollies out and began dressing and undressing them in their new clothes, while Ruby shut herself in the scullery to have her wash. Dead on the dot of eight, and just as Ruby came out of the scullery, John came out of his room and sat at the table. Bea put his breakfast – two boiled eggs and a doorstep slice of bread – in front of him and poured the tea.
‘Happy Christmas,’ she said shyly. She pushed a small gift in front of him. ‘I know you don’t celebrate it, but it’s the way we do things around here.’ John opened his mouth as if to protest, but Bea stopped him. ‘It’s the season of peace and goodwill towards all men, and I want everybody in this house to be family today.’